


A Lord's Grace

by Subject_0mega



Category: Dark Souls III
Genre: Abuse, Domestic Violence, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7766194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subject_0mega/pseuds/Subject_0mega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anri, now trapped in Londor in their forced marriage to the Lord of Hollows, must try to survive the perils of life with their spouse, all the while looking for a means to escape. Along their journey, they must learn to think quickly, find ways to carry out their plans, and, most importantly, not succumb to their despair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the Helmet

**Author's Note:**

> !CONTENT WARNING HERE! THIS CONTAINS A DEPICTION OF ABUSE. IF YOU'RE SOMEONE THAT CAN'T STOMACH THAT OR IS TRIGGERED BY CONTENT SUCH AS THAT, PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. Future chapters will feature some abusive themes, but will most likely not go as far as this one.

Anri quickly darted into the shadow of a doorway, staying pressed there until the shadows disappeared down the hall. The knife that they had managed to steal from the kitchen was clenched so tightly in their hands that their palm and fingers hurt. Wasting no time, they slipped back into the corridor and continued down. They were careful in making sure that their shoes made as little noise as possible. It had been a dangerous task, but they had retrieved their armor. Anri knew their journey ahead would be arduous, but they wouldn’t back down. They knew that if they wanted to survive, they would need their sword. Not to mention that it was a family heirloom, and they were unwilling to leave it behind in such a place. Knowing that the Lord of Hollows had it made them feel sick.  
       Slipping from displayed armor to displayed armor, they made their way to the large wooden doors of the Lord’s chambers. As quietly as possible, they tried the large, iron latch. Feeling the cold metal piece in their hand, they pulled despite how it’s frigid surface stung their skin even through their gloves. It wouldn’t budge. Looking around, Anri spotted a window. Taking a look out of it, they noticed a thin ledge leading to a window into the room. They gave a heavy breathe, not sure if they could do it.  
       They gripped the window frame tightly, steeling themself. Thinking about why they were going to get their sword in the first place and who they were going to find using it, they pulled themself onto the ledge after tucking the stolen knife away. Holding almost painfully to the brickwork, they started to to inch their way to the window. They pressed themself into the wall as a piercing wind blew past, making them shiver. The dark wasn’t helping either, but at least they couldn’t see how long of a drop awaited them below should their grip of feet fail.  
       As the wind died down, Anri prepared themself to continue on their way. In the dark, they saw a shape land on the ledge in front of them. One of the crows.  
       “Please,” they desperately whispered, “move from my path, I need get to that room.”  
       It looked up at them, unmoving. It’s intelligent little eyes revealed nothing, but Anri knew it was trying to communicate something to them.  
       “I am begging you, I need to get my sword,” they entreated as they tried to step around it.  
       Without warning, it pecked at their boot, catching one of the straps in its beak. Anri looked down at it in desperation.  
       “I need to find my friend, but I need my sword first,” they tried to reason with it. “Please, let me go.”  
       It looked up at them, and, almost hesitantly, it released their foot from its firm grasp.  
       “Thank you,” Anri sighed in relief. “I am in your debt, truly, little bird.”  
       It continued to stare at them with those intelligent eyes as they continued on their way to the window. Placing their hand on the sill, Anri pulled themself to the pane of glass. They peered inside, making sure that no one was in the room. Carefully, they pulled it outward one at a time before slipping in. They looked around just to be sure, but found that they were alone in the chamber. Anri glanced over the room, trying to think of where their sword could be.  
       Spotting it above the mantle, they rushed over to the other side of the room. It was too high for them to reach through normal means, but they weren’t going to let that stop them. Finding a place to put their foot for support, they lifted themself up, using the stone above the cold fireplace for extra support. It was painfully close, just a little bit more. They reached for the blade, stretching as far as they could go. Just as they got their hand around the bottom, they were struck by a small bolt of magic.  
       Anri hit the ground hard, pushing themself up so that they could hold their aching ribs. Gasping in pain they looked up, the Lord of Hollows was standing above them. The monarch’s helmet gave away nothing, but they knew they were angry. They didn’t have enough time to brace for the kick that collided with their stomach with excruciating force. Not willing to collapse, Anri held themself up as they tried to reach for the knife. They were glad that they were wearing a helmet, otherwise the blow that sent their head into the floor would have knocked out a few of their teeth.  
       “So this is how you react to my grace?” the lord lashed out. “By trying to escape from it?”  
       Anri found themself being violently dragged to their feet, their head was spinning as they tried to find their bearings.  
       “You were chosen!” the Hollow screamed as they struck the knight across their face. “You should feel grateful that you’re not rotting away at the bottom of a pit somewhere!”  
       Anri clumsily reached for the knife, pulling it from the sheath on their belt. The lord growled, grabbing onto their hand so hard that they couldn’t bare to hold the blade any longer. It clattered to the floor, away from Anri’s desperate grasp.  
       “Please-” they were cut off by the lord’s hand wrapping around their neck. Shoving them against the wall, Anri struggled to breath as they tore at their attacker’s hand and arm. They felt light headed, and their thoughts were clouded. Thoughtlessly, and out of habit, the name slipped from their mouth. “Horace…”  
       Anri felt the hand lift away, but they couldn’t support themself. Their vision was hazy as they hit the floor, their entire body was aching.  
       “So that is why you were trying to escape?” they demanded. “To find that silent bastard?”  
       The Hollow Lord walked past Anri, who couldn’t focus on where they were going. The sound of a chest opening echoed throughout the room.  
       “I was kind enough not to tell you,” they said as they dug through something. “I hid it to protect you, but it seems that you don’t care for my mercy.”  
       The sound of rustling stopped, and the lord walked back over to them. They dropped something black to the ground, placing a foot over it to keep it from rolling. Anri couldn’t tell what it was from that distance, but the Hollow’s words sent panic racing through their veins and instilled within them a fear even the beating couldn’t.  
       “You’ll never find him,” the lord stated coldly as they kicked the object over to them. It stopped right in front of them, the familiar visage seemingly looking them straight in the eyes. “Because I found him first.”  
       They opened their mouth, but not even a scream found its way out. Feebly, they reached for the helmet, pulling it close. Anri tried to control themself, but the tears just came.  
       “I found him at the lake, he Hollowed down there alone,” they mocked. “He was looking for you, you know? After you were foolish enough to fall into a trap.”  
       It was their fault, Anri wanted to believe that he was out there somewhere. Even if he had left them, they wanted to believe that he was still alive. It seems, they thought, that they were foolish for doing so. The realization hit them again and again, hurting even more than the beating that the Lord of Hollows gave them. In weak arms, they held the last piece of Horace they had left, sobs shaking their body.  
       “You’re lucky you were taken here,” they affirmed. “You couldn’t live without me.”  
       The lord grabbed them and pulled them up, leading them roughly into the hall.  
       “Now be good and stay,” they commanded as they dragged an unstable and broken Anri back to their room.  
       Pulling open the door, they shoved the small knight in and locked the chamber.  
       “Oh, Horace,” their voice was unsteady as they shivered and shook. “Forgive me.”  
       Anri curled around the helmet, as if it was the last thing they had in the world.  
       “I was weak on my own.”  
       They felt afraid, there was nothing out there for them anymore, but staying in Londor would mean terrible things. They looked down at the helmet, as if trying to find the answer to their dilemma. They were alone, and there was nobody to help them escape from the fiend this time.


	2. The Child and a Knight's Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anri thinks about their child, the circumstances of his birth, and the world in which they live in, and resolves to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ごめんなさい! I'm really sorry this took so long to get out, I've been really busy lately. I want to also work on my other fics too, but I decided to go with this one first!

Anri looked up at the helmet that they put on their mantle, the former Blue Sentinel’s stare drifted down to the cradle in front of them. Placing both their hands on the side, the small knight looked down at the little baby sleeping quietly. _How could something born of violence sleep so peacefully? _They laughed to themself as they rocked the crib gently. This wasn’t the Lord’s child, he was theirs.__  
       Anri gave a heavy sigh, and their eyes wandered back up to the helmet. Apologizing to it once again, they took a seat near where the child was still fast asleep. Little Horace, the Lord of Hollows didn’t care to give him a name, but Anri of Astora did. They named him after another victim of the Lord’s grace. The noble baby, born to parents that didn’t want them, one out of lack of consent and another out of the want for an heir, not a child, and named after a man long gone and forgotten to all but one. Anri wasn’t sure if they loved him because they were his parent. They loved the baby, because he too was someone such as themself, a prisoner that was chained by fate to someone incapable of caring about them as anything other than a piece in their puzzle.  
       The wistful former traveller always felt sick when they looked at the helmet, but the hurt made them remember him. It had almost become a habit to apologize to the inanimate thing, earning them the ire of the Lord whenever they overheard the knights heavy words. Anri didn’t care, they loved Horace more than they feared the Ashen One, and they owed him all of their regretful utterances and more.  
       Getting up, they walked over to the mantle, reaching up to retrieve the heavy piece of metal. Anri held it in front of them as they turned, looking from their child to the helmet and back again. The helmet would fit little Horace in time, and so would the rest of the armor. The little knight laughed to themself as they put the helmet back. They had plans of their own for the child. Anri wouldn’t allow their child to fall victim to the awful bird of prey that hunted the Lords of Cinder and stolen the flame some time before. The very same accursed bird that perched far above them and kept them captive.  
       Looking out the window and into the dark world that the Lord of Hollows brought, they had a plan to change that. They pressed their lips tightly together, and closed their eyes shut, as if expecting a blow from an unseen hand. The knight knew that the path ahead would be dangerous, but if that was what it took to free themself and their child, to carve the darkness back into the world they knew before, they would gladly hand their life over. Looking back at the mantle, they didn’t apologize that time. Anri gave a promise instead. Taking their child’s tiny hand into their own, they made a promise to the Horace that yet lingered with them as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, feedback, kudos, and comments are always appreciated! 良い一日を!


	3. Little Horace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anri spends quality time with their child, and the Lord of Hollows discovers the secret the little knight had been keeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence later on!

       Anri felt the tiny wooden sword slip from their hand into the little boy’s. With a gleeful cry, the child gave it a quick swing, sending a warm pang through his parent’s chest. He was growing up quickly, their pride and joy. The years seemed to fly by ever since they had him, Anri had spent them in relative happiness. As long as they had him, the knight knew they’d survive whatever the Lord of Hollows could do to them. Looking up at his guardian with wide brown eyes, he gave them a smile, prompting one on their own face.  
       “Do you like it?” they asked, kneeling down in front of him as they placed their hand on his shoulder.  
       “Mhmm,” the child answered, nodding profusely. “Thank you, Oya!”  
       Anri's son jumped into them, wrapping his arms around them. Squeezing him tightly, they planted a kiss on his forehead. They let him go so that he could go play with his new toy.  
       “Little Horace, why don’t you run along,” Anri patted him on the back. To their surprise, he didn’t move. Cocking his head, the little boy looked up at them with some amount of confusion.  
       “Oya, can I ask you something?” Horace slowly said.  
       “Yes,” they replied, giving him a look of concern as they tousled his black hair. “What’s the matter?”  
       “If I’m little Horace, where is big Horace?” the look of genuine curiosity on his face surprised the small knight. The question felt like an arrow through their heart. A cold emotion rising from their stomach like bile.  
       “Do you think there was ever a big Horace?” Anri asked, trying to act amused.  
       Little Horace nodded his head.  
       “Smart boy,” the former Blue Sentinel gave a tired laugh. The boy looked up at them with curious wonder.  
       “Am I like big Horace?” he excitedly asked.  
       “More than you know,” his parent answered.  
       “Really?” the little boy looked up at Anri, beaming with eagerness.  
       The former wanderer wondered if it was a good idea to talk to their child about their late friend, but the way little Horace looked up at them made all their hesitation wash away.  
       “Absolutely! You’re just as kind hearted and courageous as big Horace was,” the knight stated, smiling at the look of sheer joy on their son’s face. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you!”  
       “Will I get to meet big Horace?” Little Horace asked.  
       “Oh! Hopefully not for a long time!” Anri quickly exclaimed.  
       “Then can you tell me more about big Horace?” the child clutched the sword to their chest as they almost begged the knight.  
       “Maybe another time,” Anri rubbed his cheek affectionately. “Why don’t y-”  
       “My Liege,” the sickeningly familiar voice of Yuria cut them off. Upon the sight of her, little Horace squeezed his parent’s hand. Giving him a reassuring rub on the back, Anri sent their son to go play elsewhere.  
       “Yes, Yuria,” the little knight answered.  
       “Our Lord of Hollows requests your presence immediately,” the enigmatic hollow stated. “Tarry no longer than you must, for the matters that they wish to discuss burden them greatly.”  
       Without another word, Yuria disappeared back into the building. Anri stood and listened as her footsteps faded, dread building up inside of them, blossoming into panic. Looking back at their child, they beckoned him to their side. Little Horace looked up at them curiously.  
       “I’ll be back soon,” they promised. “Please head back to our room.”  
       “I will,” the little boy assured, his curiosity turning to fear as he clung to them tighter than before. “Only if you promise you’ll come back.”  
       “I promise,” Anri whispered, hugging him tightly. “Now go inside and stay out of trouble.”  
       Horace nodded before running ahead of the knight, who dreaded his absence. Straightening their back, Anri followed the others into the building.  
       Walking through the halls, accompanied by only the sound of their own footsteps and the vacant sets of armor that lined their way, the former Blue Sentinel made their way to the large doors of the Lord of Hollows’ chamber. As they stood in front, Anri gave a hard knock, and the doors slid open, pulled by two small hollows, who fled upon completion of the task. Without a word, they stepped toward the figure that stood before the fireplace at the back of the room.  
       “Tell me truthfully,” the Lord’s voice boomed, “the name of our child.”  
       The question sent Anri reeling, in all the six years the boy existed, the other source of his blood never bothered to learn his name. They had never thought about what they’d say if the ruler asked.  
       “His name is Horace, isn’t it?” they growled.  
       Anri, at a loss for words, could do nothing as the other Ashen One turned toward them. With almost inhuman speed and force, the lord was upon them. Grabbing their arm with enough force to make the small knight cry out in pain.  
       “I want to hear it from you!” they yelled. “His name!”  
       “If I tell you, what are you going to do to him?” they struggled to get out through clenched teeth.  
       “I will not harm the child,” the Lord of Hollows answered.  
       “I-I don’t believe you,” Anri struggled against them.  
       “Tell me, and I will do nothing to the boy!” the imposing knight growled. Without giving them a chance to speak, the ruler tossed Anri to the ground, pinning them down by putting their foot over the small hollow’s upper arm.  
       “I won’t.”  
       “I’ll break your arm,” the lord threatened, pressing down. With a shriek, Anri tried to pull away.  
       “You’ve done worse,” the small knight spat with uncharacteristic defiance.  
       In their anger, the imposing ruler pulled their foot off Anri’s arm. Wasting no time, their kick hit it’s mark: the former wanderer’s ribs. Tucking their legs inward in pain, they could hear the huff of frustration from their spouse.  
       “Are you going to talk?”  
       Anri barely found the strength to shake their head. Bending down, the Lord of Hollows grabbed the little knight. The blow collided with their cheek, the taste of blood in their mouth informing them of the damage it inflicted.  
       “Tell me!” Anri knew that the lord already knew the name, their insistence on their spouse saying it was just a show of domination. Something to feed their love of power over others. They wanted to draw out the frustration of their lord, but knew they wouldn’t be able to handle much more. For little Horace’s sake, they decided to answer.  
       “Horace,” Anri stated.  
       “Are you calling out for him again?” the ruler of Londor snarled.  
       “No,” the knight weakly shook their head. “His name is Horace.”  
       Pulling away, the Lord of Hollows went back to their place by the fire. Looking down at them one last time, the ruler turned away.  
       “That is all I wanted to know.”  
       “Please don’t hurt him,” Anri begged. “It was my fault I-”  
       “Leave.”  
       “Please, he did nothing-”  
       “I will not harm my heir,” the lord coldly stated. “Leave.”  
       Struggling to their feet, Anri stumbled out of the doors. Desperation pulling their aching body forward, they quickly stole through the vacant halls. They needed to find their son. It wasn’t long before they found themself in front of the room they shared with little Horace.  
       Looking down at the mess they were in, the former Blue Sentinel hesitated before knocking. The quick footsteps of their child as he ran to the door sent an unimaginable relief through them. As soon as Horace pulled the door open, they moved inside, ignoring the look of worry and fear on his face. Shutting the door behind them, Anri pulled the child into their arms.  
       “You’re hurt!” the boy exclaimed.  
       “I know,” the knight didn’t want to let go.  
       “I’m sorry,” Horace hugged them close as he began to cry. They felt tears fall from their own eyes. He was just as kind as the man they wished was his father.  
       “Don’t be,” they assured him. Pulling away only to wipe his tears away, they thought of something that might cheer the little boy up. “I have an idea, would you like to hear about Horace?”  
       “Big Horace?” the child asked, wiping their cheek.  
       Anri nodded, and the little Horace brightened up almost immediately.  
       “I’ll tell you about big Horace, and when the sky was blue.”  
       The boy stared at them in wide eyed wonder. Anri could feel the ember of hate that was lit in their chest that day seven years before. Their stories would become their defiance.  
“I was a knight before,” they began, a smile creeping across their bleeding visage. “And at my side was a brave and kind knight named Horace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry my other works have been slow, I've really been struggling for inspiration, but I promise I'll get back into the swing of things soon! As always feedback, comments, and kudos are greatly appreciated! Have a nice day!


	4. A Bell Toll and a Strange Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the bell at Firelink tolls, Anri decides it is time to put their plan into motion. After giving a gift to their son, a strange guest arrives.

       

Looking down into the courtyard, Anri smiled gently at the young man who stood clad in drab chainmail. Little Horace had grown up so quickly, they could hardly believe it. The torches illuminated his shape as he swung his spear with absolute grace, as if the weapon was a part of him. The sound of a tolling bell ripped them from their focus on their son, Anri looked toward the sky. That familiar toll, unlike any bell that could be found in Londor, they knew well. How could it be? It hadn’t even been long since the Fire was usurped, and it already called out in fear of its death. They looked back to Horace, who stood with a look of confusion. Quickly turning to Anri, he ran inside, abandoning his spear on the ground.  
       The former Blue Sentinel could hear his footsteps getting louder as he ran up to greet them. The torchlight illuminating the worry etched into his features, his parent met him with open arms. Hugging them tightly, the young man pulled away to speak with them.  
       “What was that?” he asked, looking outward to the sky. “I’ve never heard that bell before. It’s not from here, is it?”  
       Anri grabbed his hand and pulled him along as they headed for their chamber. They couldn’t tell him, not out in the open. Quickly passing through the mostly vacant halls, the knight threw open the wooden door to their room and pulled him in. Checking the corridor, they locked it behind them. Turning to the window, they looked out over the darkened land. In their head, they had already formulated a plan. One they never thought they’d live to pull off, but here it was, their chance to set things right.  
       As they ran to their closet, little Horace followed closely by their side, opening his mouth to speak, only to close it at his loss of words. They could tell he had questions, but they needed to find something first. Withdrawing a large chest, they pulled it to the center of the room and nearly threw it open.  
       “I’ll explain everything, I promise,” they assured their son, holding out the familiar black chest plate. “But first, I have a gift for you.”  
       “Armor?” Horace asked, slowly taking the first piece from them.  
       “Why?”  
       “Remember the stories I used to tell you, back when you were young?”  
       “The ones about the other Horace?” The young man slipped his chainmail off and put on the chest piece over his black clothing. “Oh, this is quite heavy.”  
       “Yes, big Horace,” they laughed at the term the man used as a child. “This is his armor. I want you to have it.”  
       Horace stood in awe, looking down at what he was wearing. “This is really what he wore?” the young knight asked trailing his hands over the smooth front. “I don’t mean to offend, Oya, but this looks like the armor of…”  
       “An executioner,” Anri finished his sentence, a sad smile crossing their face. “Because it belonged to a wicked person before Horace found it. It was worn to take lives before, but he turned it into something that saved them instead.”  
       As they walked over to their bed, Anri pulled something from under the covers. Holding the helmet to their chest, they walked over to their son, who stared at the knight in disbelief. The young man had put on the rest of the set while they were speaking, all of it except the piece the small knight held in their hands.  
       “I’m surprised you aren’t more surprised,” they commented, holding out the helmet to him.  
       Slipping it on, Horace straightened his back. It was Anri’s turn to stand in awe, as if a dead man was standing in front of them.  
       “More surprised?” little Horace asked, laughing. “I thought my heart would stop when you said that!”  
       “That wouldn’t be good!” Anri joked. “What do you think?”  
       “I don’t know…” he began. “It fits well. This is just… quite a bit to take in all at once. This was really what he wore?”  
       His parent nodded. Looking at himself, he went silent.  
       “It suits you,” the former Blue Sentinel stated, smiling at their child. They lost themself in thought, looking at their son. Seeing him in their late friend’s armor brought back so many memories.  
       “Thank you for his armor. I hope I can live up to it,” little Horace, always one for politeness, gave a small bow despite his bulky getup. “Now, can you tell me about the bell?”  
       “Ah, yes,” Anri pulled themself from their thoughts. “To put it simply, that is the bell at a place called Firelink Shrine, and it summons the Unkindled, such as myself, to rise from their graves. It only rings when the Fire is in danger, and the Lords, who linked it before, will flee their thrones and we must seek them. It seems, our Lord is running out of time.”  
       Horace stared at them in utter confusion, as he only knew about any of those from the stories he had been told by them.  
       “So this is like when you travelled with Horace?” he asked.  
       “Yes,” the knight answered. “And I have a plan.”  
       “And what is the plan?”  
       “I can’t tell you, not now,” Anri stated. “It would put you in danger. I will start, and once I find a way to accomplish the first part, I promise I will tell you everything.”  
       “I-I understand,” Horace straightened himself and looked at them. “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”  
       “Yes, but only one thing, I don’t want you getting hurt,” the former wanderer placed their hands on their son’s shoulders. “And I’m sure the reason our Lord of Hollows has locked themself away in their chamber is related to the bell. I need you to keep vigilant for any strange visitors. I’m sure the Unkindled that rise will have questions, send them to me quietly.”  
       “Then I will go,” the young man took the helmet off his head, and gave his parent a one-armed hug. “Please stay safe.”  
       “And the same to you, little Horace.” Anri watched as Horace left, waiting until he closed the door behind him.  
       Turning to the window, they walked over to the cold metal frame. They leaned into the dark world that they had plans on changing. The Lords would be delivered to their thrones, returned as cinder if it came to that. The little knight smiled, thoughts of their departure from Londor filling their head. They were so lost in thought, that they didn’t notice their guest. Huffing and puffing, he pulled himself onto one of the ledges, taking a seat and crossing his arms. His bulky, rounded armor shifted as he made a vain attempt to wipe his forehead, which was thwarted by his onion shaped helmet. They stared at him with wide eyes, unable to say a word. 

“Hmmm… Still not near the top… Quite a pickle, if I do say...” he hummed as he looked up. Turning slightly, he jumped, nearly sending him plummeting to the ground below. With one hand up and one gripping the edge, he stared at the figure with a matching dropped jaw. Collecting himself slightly, he stumbled for words. “Oh, pardon me, I was absorbed in thought! I… I’m supposed to be here.  
       It was quite a display, to see the way his helmet turned slightly as he looked around, as if something to say would be written somewhere on the darkened walls. Tapping his fingers on the edge, he straightened up as he had a realization. The strange man relaxed slightly, but still kept his hand up as a guard, despite the fact that he had a shield on his back.  
       “You see, I… Hmmm… Yes! I clean the windows, they are in grave peril with all this ash floating about! You see… I’m wearing armor because… The crows! Yes, they are quite pesky when you are in my line of duty, if I do say! And… Hmmm… Are you alright?”  
       Anri couldn’t do anything to hide their surprise, staring at him with a dumbfounded expression.  
       “My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he waved a hand before their face.  
       “No, no, it was rather rude of me to stare,” they admitted, shaking themself. “You’re Unkindled, aren’t you? Came here to find the lord of this place?”  
       “No, that’s preposterous!” he laughed nervously. “I’m a window cleaner!”  
       “If you tell me the truth, I’ll help you up the tower,” they stated. “No climbing, I promise.”  
       “Do you really not believe me?” he asked.  
       Anri shook their head.  
       With a nod, he inched closer to the window. Reaching out to the little knight, he quickly withdrew his hand to his chest.  
       “This isn’t a trick, is it?” he looked side to side, as if he could see if an ambush was waiting for him. “Not that I don’t trust you! My apologies, but I am in a strange land, and Londor, no less.”  
       “I understand, you’ve probably heard stories about the hollows of Londor, and I am a hollow, and we are in Londor,” Anri gave him a gentle smile. “I promise, if you come in, you will not be harmed.”  
       They held out a hand to him, and, his previous hesitation gone, the knight in rounded armor took it. With great effort on both their parts, he fell into the window, landing clumsily on the ground. Picking himself up, he looked up at Anri.  
       “I shouldn’t have doubted you like that, please forgive me,” he bowed his head. “My goodness, all my rudeness must have scared my manners away! I haven’t even introduced myself! I am Siegward of the knights of Catarina.”  
       “I am Anri of Astora, pleased to meet you,” they stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, another chapter! Sorry updates have been so slow! I've decided to put off "Something to do With Flowers" and "Let the Sun Shine" until until the Cinderscramble and this are finished. Thank you for reading! As always, kudos, comments, and feedback are always welcome! Have a great day!


	5. New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anri and Siegward have a conversation.

        Sitting on the edge of the bed with his helmet resting at his side, Siegward was catching his breath. Anri looked at him sympathetically. Though his hair was still completely black, the lines etched into the sides of his eyes and his forehead attested to his age, or at least the stress he’s gone through in his life. They patted his back gently, and he smiled up at them.  
        “My apologies, I’m not what I used to be,” he stated. “I’m a bit too plump to be doing anything of that sort.”  
        He gave a labored laugh, followed by a fit of coughing.   
        “Take your time, we can go when you’re ready,” Anri assured him. “The lord of this place doesn’t leave anymore.”  
        “Thank you,” the knight said, already losing the winded sound to his voice. “But might I ask, who the lord of this place is? I came here upon the advice of a pilgrim, but lack any knowledge on who this Lord of Hollows they spoke of is.”  
        “They were the one that stole the Flame,” Anri answered, almost nonchalantly. “Why the sky is as it is.”  
        Siegward look so shocked, they thought he might die right then and there.   
        “Wait, are you saying that someone truly forsook their duty?” he gasped. “I-I need some time.”  
        The little knight felt sorry for him, they forgot that he just now woke up. He’d have no knowledge of what happened, it must be shocking to wake up to this.  
        “I shouldn’t have been so blunt,” they admitted. “You must care a great deal about the duty of us Unkindled.”  
        “Of course!” Siegward seemed almost on the verge of tears. “Who was it? Please, tell me.”  
        He looked almost desperate as he grasped both their hands in his own.  
        “Then you want revenge?” Anri was starting to be filled with a morbid excitement.   
        “I don’t quite know yet, but I need to know who did this,” he answered. “I need you to tell me that it isn’t who I think it is, please.”  
        “Are you sure you want the answer,” they asked, seeing his state. They bent down slightly to get at eye level with him, glad he wasn’t much taller than they were. “The Champion of Ash rejected their place among the Lords of Cinder, and became the Lord of Hollows instead.”  
        Siegward gave a small, dismayed shout before covering his mouth, remembering where he was. Dropping his hands, the Catarina knight took a deep breath. When he saw the look of worry Anri wore for him, he tried to say something.  
        “What was I expecting?” he tried to laugh, but even that almost faded into sobs. “I should have known, I helped them after all!”  
        The little knight couldn’t stand seeing him like that, they hadn’t known him for very long at all, but he didn’t seem like the bad sort. They hesitated for only a moment before they wrapped their arms around him. Wasting no time, he hugged them back. They held him as he muffled his cries against them, Anri didn’t mind how tightly he grasped them. In all honesty, they were always one to love being hugged.  
        “My apologies, I haven’t done this in quite some time,” Siegward sighed.  
        “Crying is always worse the longer you bottle it up,” they rubbed his back. “Take your time, you don’t need to let go.”  
        “Thank you,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “But I must continue on, I’m not alone.”  
        Both of them didn’t have time to react as the door swung open. Standing in the frame was Yuria, eyeing them as a bird of prey would. Anri was too shocked to let go of Siegward, who was just as surprised as they were. The two could almost hear the wheels starting to turn in her head.   
        “What is the meaning of this?” she practically growled. “Our gracious lord is ill and thou’rt content to fill your bed with this?”  
        Anri let go of Siegward, and began to fumble over their words.  
        “Yuria, it’s- This isn’t-”  
        “Silence,” the black clad woman cut them off. “I should have known thou wouldst be so ungrateful! That thou would betray thy lord for a bumbling oaf such as him! I should have done away with thee long ago! I-”  
        Something collided with the back of her head, and she fell to the ground, a new figure standing over her. The woman’s white and silver armor stood in stark contrast to the drab world around her. Her fist was still up, as she looked down at Yuria with a certain disdain.   
        “Sirris!” Siegward shouted, jumping up.  
        “I was not going to intervene this quickly,” Sirris’ voice was incredibly even for someone who just knocked another unconscious. “But I grew tired of hearing her speak. It did not seem like my assistance was required, but let us continue with our ascent. Siegward, I am glad you found a way up, did you find out anything useful?”  
        “It’s worse than I thought,” he informed. “The fire went unlinked, and the perpetrator was the Champion.”  
        “I see,” her face revealing nothing. “Then let us take our leave. If we are to change any of this, it cannot be done now.”  
        “If you say so, but what’s to be done with her,” he pointed down at Yuria.   
        “She is former servant of the serpent,” the knight in white armor stated. “It would be best to put an end to her.”  
        “She’s undead, unfortunately,” Siegward observed as he picked the sword up from off her body and handed it to Anri. “If we kill her, she’ll likely come back.”  
        “We can tie her up and hide her,” Anri contributed.  
        “That is true,” Sirris remarked. “Do you have anything we can use?”  
        “The sheets?” the little knight asked.  
        “I think that would work,” Siegward commented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, this development is probably not going to go over well for Siegward in the future! Well, thanks for reading! As always, comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated! Have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! I know this was something pretty heavy, but don't worry, I have nicer stuff planned! And if anyone follows up on my other stuff: I'm working on the next chapter of the modern AU and it should be up sometime soon! As always, kudos, comments, and feedback are always appreciated! Have a great day!


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